In an instant, Sara and Chloe were seized and raised high in the sky by the poking, prodding twigs of their deciduous captors. The girls screamed, watching as Muriel suffered a similar fate, only instead of holding the nymph in the air like their trees did, the horrible limbs that caught Muriel began eating her alive. The nymph struggled, trying in vain to use her stick as a weapon but despite her blows, the tree seemed intent on absorbing its captive.
First, the witch’s legs melted into the tree’s bark, and then her body disappeared. The look of sorrow on the nymph’s face was something that would haunt Sara for as long as she lived. Finally, Muriel cried out, “Bless you, Sara. You are on your own now. If you can, use your healing…”
Then, Muriel the wood nymph was gone, a part of the tree that kidnapped her. It was as if the nymph was herself was the medicine needed to cure the tree, because within moments its blackened, rotten branches turned green and quivered with new leaves and blossoms. For a second, Sara thought she saw Muriel’s bright yellow eyes blink open deep within the tree’s bark, and then it was just another willow tree.
Tears poured from Sara’s eyes but the battle caught her attention. Nate, so far, was holding his own, but it looked like at least two of the dwarves lie dead or unconscious on the ground. Sara had seen pictures of trolls during her studies with the nymph, but those crudely drawn portraits did not do these foul creatures justice.
The trolls were anywhere from eight feet to twelve feet tall. Green, slimy flesh hung from their misshapen bodies like rotten sacks and their crazy eyes rolled high in the air on stalk-like appendages. Their giant heads were flat on top, and the whole bottom half of their faces were nothing more than huge, gaping maws filled with sharp, broken fangs.
Sara cried out in terror as one of the beasts lunged toward Nate. At first, she couldn’t tell what happened and then she saw that instead of grabbing ahold of a prime, young man, the troll had seized the raw edge of Nate’s sword. With a shriek of pain the troll danced backward, flapping its hand in agony, as huge blobs of green, stinking, troll blood fell like rain.
The goblins, if anything, were more terrifying than the trolls were. At least the troll’s bodies were made of flesh and blood, disgusting as that might be. The goblins, however, seemed to be made of smoke. They moved from one being to another, and their incorporeal bodies smothered their victims in darkness before moving on. Their eyes glowed like red coals, and long forked tongues wiggled in the air with glee, as their victims shrieked in despair.
The elves fought valiantly, and the two stout, little dwarves that survived flanked Nate. Fruman and Shura brought their mighty fists down repeatedly, squashing the trolls while Hissaphat and his troops made a special sport of the goblins that shrieked in fear and fled the feline soldiers that stalked them.
Sara and Chloe gasped helplessly as they saw one troll rise up from the ground and launch itself at Nate’s unprotected back. The troll’s giant, bony hand grabbed the young man’s shoulder and he spun around with a cry of pain. The two dwarves were busy trying to keep two other trolls from attacking, and Sara wept at the agony on Nate’s face and the realization that his shoulder must be dislocated or broken, because he was suddenly unable to raise his sword.
The troll grinned, bellowing in triumph and bent down to bite Nate’s head off. Then, it stopped and screamed in disbelief as a long red horn protruded from its belly button. The horn glowed briefly and then snuffed out like a candle. Nate stared as the troll swayed and then fell over backwards onto the still form of Tandy the unicorn.
Peat and Pollo fought back to back. Peat used a tiny iron sword that poked and pricked trolls and goblins alike, making them howl and jump up and down in frustrated anguish. Pollo used his wooden sword much like Muriel used to wield her Weirding stick. He pointed it at their attackers and the victims of his spells staggered away blinded, or fell over in a swoon.
Nate turned back to fight the trolls and attempted to fight with his left sword arm, but Sara saw that he missed more than hit, and the look in his beautiful blue eyes was that of desperation. The little army fought bravely, but they were outnumbered ten to one. Sara wept at the realization that their mission was over, before it had even begun. She realized, now that it was too late, they should have taken the forward path.
Muriel had doubted the strength of Sara’s healing powers, and her own ability to heal the poisonous thorns bite, and now they had walked straight into a trap. Glancing over at the one tree in the glade that sparkled with new green growth, Sara realized that Muriel paid for her mistake with her life… perhaps with all their lives.
The fight would have ended with their doom, but for the sound of a sweet, haunting melody that suddenly filled the air. William, the minstrel, played his fiddle and the goblins clapped their claws over their ears, howling in rage. The trolls that threatened Nate and his dwarven companions tucked tail and ran and Sara saw Pollo and Peat grin with understanding.
The rest of the trolls stopped fighting and milled about the clearing in a daze. Their eyestalks wiggled aimlessly and they cooed and hooted at one another, finally turning and running clumsily toward the mouths of their underground warrens. They cast frightened glances over their hunched shoulders at the man who played the song of their death.
William, however, was caught up in his own trance. His eyes stared into the sky, sightlessly, as his fingers flew over the frets of his violin. The music was unlike anything Sara had ever heard before. It was as if the violin was speaking in a foreign language, and the words it uttered sent the creatures of darkness into mindless terror, and absolute obedience.
Within moments of the violin’s first words, the creatures were all gone, fled back into their caves or disappeared into foul smelling puffs of smoke. The trees that clutched Sara and Chloe in their woody embrace lost the energy that held them tight, and now the girls were able to extract themselves and climb down the trees trunk unmolested.
Sara and Chloe stared at the willow tree that had swallowed their friend whole and wept. Then they made their way up onto the path and site of the battle. Nate was sitting on the ground, gritting his teeth as Pollo tried to set his wrenched shoulder back into place. The dwarves were praying over their fallen companions, including the torn body of their general, Fang.
The cats swarmed over the body of a dead troll, and engaged in a grizzly, impromptu snack. Peat and the elves bent over Tandy the unicorn, staring in shock. The unicorn’s body was torn and ripped by the troll’s sharp teeth and grasping claws. Even so, it had found a way to keep Nate from harm, before succumbing to its wounds.
Sara and Chloe ran up to where Nate sat, and the three teens looked around in dismay. Just like that, their company was robbed of four members…Muriel, the cranky but fiercely protective wood nymph and Fang, the feisty little general of the Dwarven army, plus one of his lieutenants, a dwarf known as Anvil. Reaching down to stroke the unicorn’s silvery jaw, Sara knew that some of the best, most potent magic they possessed had just died and lay diminished at their feet.
Tandy had been a shy but powerful force in their ranks. Now, however, his golden horn was broken and his silvery coat was just dappled gray, flea-bitten, and scored by many years of time and travel.
William walked over to them, and said, “Oh man, look at that.” He looked ancient now, as if the musical instrument that came to life in his hands when needed actually sucked the life out of its host when it sang. William stroked the violin gently, though, with a soft cloth and a smile. Looking around, he frowned and asked, “Where’s Muriel?”
Everyone glanced around, looking for the missing nymph, and Sara said, “That tree…” she sobbed, “It ate her!”
*
Horrack watched the battle from behind a large boulder and his hot ember eyes gleamed with satisfaction. Horrack was an Unseelie Kelpie, a water horse. Tall, at seventeen hands high, his black hide was glossy, and his mane and tail rippled black and green. His eyes gleamed red, like banked coals and his long yellow teeth wer
e often bared in rage. When angered, his wide nostrils flared, and smoked with puffs of flame.
Horrack had spent the many centuries of his long life filled with hate and resentment toward human beings. He had watched, resentfully, as his brothers and sisters were bridled and yoked, whipped and starved, captured and held prisoner. He swore that he would get even, and for over three centuries he did, every chance he got.
He was known to walk up to a lone walker or an ignorant farmer whose oxen had bolted, and offer his services, like a dumb beast. He would stick his neck out, and let himself be harnessed to a wagon, or let his teeth be pinched by a bit, all the while nickering gently in tame submission.
Only when the humans were lulled by his gentle manner did Horrack rise up in a rare and gallop to a river or over the edge of a cliff. The kelpie could live underwater as well as on land, but the humans did not fare as well.
Horrack would leap and bound, kick his mighty hooves and snort with joy even as his victims gasped their last breath of air and their eyes grew dim. He did this countless times over the ages, until Hestia got wind of it, and put a stop to his excesses.
For many years, Horrack was sent to live under the waves, and he did so out of fear of the faery queen, but times were changing. Hestia had fled to her precious woods, and the forces of darkness were running rampant over fae lands and the human realm as well.
The dark ones did not mind the kelpie’s antics, and had even encouraged Horrack to hunt humans again, but Tandy had not allowed it. Well, he thought, so much for the unicorn’s rules. Finally, that insufferable fool had met his end, and now Horrack vowed to finish his revenge on the human beings who dared trod on magical land.
He closed his hot, fiery eyes and whinnied softly as a plan began to form in the back of his mind.
Chapter 18
The company turned around and walked back the way they came. They had buried the dwarves and placed Tandy’s body under a pile of leaves and dead branches. Rondel said that Tandy’s body would decompose quickly and the good magic within the unicorn’s body and soul would infuse the forest around it, speeding the healing process within the rotten, darkly enchanted forest. Then he gave Tandy’s horn a sharp twist, and it came off in his hand.
Nate winced and muttered, “Now, that’s just rude.”
Rondel and Rowena turned to the teens and Rowena snarled, “Child, we have lost much of our might, and most of our magic. My brother and I can feel our own power diminishing with every breath we take. This horn still holds medicine, although its owner is dead. What would you have us do? Leave what little magic we have left to rot in these woods?”
Nate blushed and shook his head. The elves transformation from benevolent and beautiful soldier, to angry and cornered warrior was abrupt and unnerving. The elves straight white teeth, when angered, turned into long pointed fangs, and their pretty, purple eyes glowed red.
He whispered, “I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking.” Rowena stared at him for a few moments and then turned away with a shrug, as her brother tucked the unicorn’s horn into the back of his belt. A few minutes later, the companions started walking back to the fork in the road.
The spirit of Muriel’s army was crushed under the weight of sorrow and disappointment. The dwarves did not speak, and Sara kept swallowing hard against the grief of losing her friend and mentor. The elves looked sullen and shaken. It was frightening to feel their power fading under the onslaught of dark magic, and they blamed themselves for walking into the troll’s trap.
William looked and acted, now, like the elderly man he really was. Bent over with fatigue and shaking with tremors, the minstrel leaned heavily on Nate’s left shoulder. The boy’s right shoulder was set and healing from the sprite’s magic but that didn’t stop it from throbbing and burning like fire.
Martin suddenly hopped onto the path in front of them and croaked, “Come this way, it’s safe here.” Sara could not help but wonder where the toad had gone off to during the battle, but she was too tired and dispirited to care. She and the others stumbled off the path into a damp little dell. The trees were drooping with mist and rainwater, but they seemed healthy enough and the tiny brook that flowed nearby ran with clear, clean water.
The teens sat down after drinking their fill, and hunched together miserably. Rondel, apparently, did not trust Martin very much either, and barked, “So where were you when the trolls and goblins attacked, toad?”
Martin stared at the elf, balefully. “What did you expect me to do, elf? I have no magic. I am just a man in toads clothing. I did find this place for you to rest and recover in, did I not?”
“Humph,” Rondel snorted, and his sister fingered her bow thoughtfully.
Martin did not miss the veiled threat. “Elves…” he glanced at the group as a whole, “All of you, I am sorry for your loss, truly, I am. My mistress will not be pleased at the loss of the unicorn, especially. You must realize, though, that I have little power and even less voice in this matter. Muriel did not trust me either, you know. Had I suggested that going left seemed to be the wrong way, Muriel would have done it anyway just to spite me,” He sighed, looking up into the tree’s canopy of leaves. “I was a bad man once, filled with bitterness and bile. I drank too much and when I did, all of my anger spilled out of me and onto my family.”
“I have repented my evil ways… for centuries now,” he continued. “After I left, my wife re-married and raised my sons with the care and affection they deserved. Remember, though, that was over two hundred years ago. My wife and sons have been dead and buried for almost as long as I have been a toad!”
Martins green eyes drooped with sorrow. “I brought you here to rest, but I suggest you go back to the thicket as soon as you can. It is only a league away. Look past the thorns and see the help that lies hidden there. You should find the way open to enter Timaron’s court.” He took a mighty leap out of the dell and up onto the path. Turning around, he said, “I was never meant to go into the Unseelie court, and so I bid you farewell. Now it falls on me to tell my queen that her steed has perished.” Then he jumped and was gone.
Sara and her friends exchanged a glance. Martin did seem guilty by association, if nothing else and an easy target to blame, but no one was at fault, really. This war, like so many other wars, would claim victims in a random, arbitrary fashion and despite the odds; no one was safe from harm.
They heard Fruman clear his throat… it sounded like boulders tumbling together. “My wife and I will accompany you to the entrance of the Unseelie court, and make sure you come to no more harm. Once there, however, we can go no further. We are too big, you see,” he shrugged apologetically. “We will stand guard, though, outside the entrance. That way you will not have enemies on your trail.”
Rondel bowed to the giant and his wife, “We thank you, mighty giants, and owe you a debt of gratitude.”
The giants bowed back and moved a little farther up the path, while the teens and their companions shouldered their packs and prepared to face the thorns that blocked the dark court’s entrance.
They walked for about an hour, and the familiar thorn bushes came into view. If anything, it looked like the poison shrubs had grown in their absence. The black shiny stickers oozed their blood colored venom, and the humans gulped in fear. The nymph was no longer able to help Sara heal the deadly scratches, and Sara worried that she was not strong enough to do it on her own.
The bushes made an impenetrable wall as far as the eye could see, and Sara grew more frightened by the minute, then she heard Fruman say, “My wife and I will stomp the weeds, and try to clear you a safe path.”
Rondel nodded and replied, “Yes, Fruman, that will help.” Turning to Nate, he continued, “Nate, you and my sister must each carry a dwarf. Their bodies are too small to absorb that much poison.” He eyed the girls, adding, “Sara and Chloe, you will walk on either side of the minstrel. His cloak should shield you and your bodies will help keep him safe. Sprites, you are with me.”
Fina
lly, he turned to Hissaphat. “Cat, how do you want to proceed?”
Hiss eyed the thorns and said, “My soldiers will walk amongst you, but too many of us will hinder your progress.” He turned around and spoke to his army. “I need five of you to come with me, the rest will go back to guard the sprite’s village, or help guard Sylvan’s people while they move. Who volunteers?”
Sara did not know why she could hear Hiss’ words but not those of his fellows, but a chorus of high-pitched meows filled the air, as many of the cats argued and took position. After a minute, or two, most of the cats left and Hiss stood with the five cats that had chosen to accompany their leader down into the Unseelie court.
Sara and her companions turned to face the shrubs, and the greenery rustled ominously, as if sensing the intruder’s intent. William trembled, and whispered, “Girls, I’m afraid this old body is plum worn out. I’ll try to keep you safe, but…”
“Shh, William,” Chloe murmured. “Don’t worry about us, okay? We’ll keep each other safe.”
William nodded, and the three of them started walking toward the poisonous thorns. Fruman took the lead and his mighty stone feet leveled the shrubs into a sort of alleyway. A subliminal scream filled the air as some of the greenery died under the giant’s assault. As soon as Fruman’s foot passed by, though, more shrubbery grew in its place.
The War of Odds Page 11
